


Bachelor's Degree in Love

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Failboats In Love, Father-Son Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Surprise Visits, college is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: Kyoya is far away from Tamaki for university, but he doesn't have time to be homesick.Tamaki realizes how much he misses being close to Kyoya, and decides to do something about it.
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. And So It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> i said i was gonna grow up and stop writing college au fics now that i'm a grad student, but here we are.
> 
> go thank moonlit--wonders.tumblr.com for helping put this idea together! 
> 
> and the love of my life for giving it a title (thanks haley)

**Re:** Weekly Update <17/1/2019 19:16>

Kyoya Ootori < [ kyo.ootori@ootorigroup.staff.com ](mailto:kyo.ootori@ootorigroup.staff.com) >

To: Yoshio

Good Evening, 

I appreciate your patience with my reply. I'll respond more promptly in the future. My class schedule is attached below. You will find all of the professors to be highly reputable, and I have found them agreeable. The receipt for my textbooks is attached as well. Due to my grades last semester, I have been accepted into the pre-Law program and will be applying for related internships over the summer. 

Hotta sends his regards. 

Signed, 

Kyoya

  
  


\---

Kyoya closed his laptop and closed his eyes, leaning back in his desk chair until it rocked back on two legs and then tilting it as far as it would go without toppling over backwards. He breathed in deep, three seconds in, five seconds out. Then his phone started to chime. 

  


Someone had once told Kyoya that he was going to “flourish” in university. She was the wife of one of his father’s business associates, and she had approached him at a dinner party well into the evening. Kyoya had spoken with a long parade of people by that time, all of them with the same dialogue. “A third year at Ouran? So impressive.” “I expect you keep perfect grades.” “Your father must be very proud.” “Where do you intend to go to university?” “Have you taken your admission exams yet?” 

But she had been different. 

As she approached, Kyoya had taken in a breath and forced his face into an expression of polite openness, as if he wasn’t bored out of his mind and exhausted by the festivities. He prepared himself to answer the same array of questions. What year was he in school? How was he doing? Where was he going to college? What was he going to study? 

But instead she said, “I bet you’re just dying to get out of here.”

That had caught him by surprise, but he'd caught himself before his face could slip into a frown. He'd said, “Quite the contrary. It is a privilege to be involved in my family’s business and to attend these functions.”

The words had felt dead on his tongue, but they weren’t entirely untruthful. It  _ was _ a privilege. One he had practically begged for when he was younger. What was that phrase? You have to be careful what you wish for. 

The look she had given him was dubious. It reminded him of Haruhi. She had the kind of face wealthy women could afford to have when they began aging, and hair that was starting to grow in grey but had obviously been dyed entirely to silver. It was something Mrs. Hitachiin would do, eventually, Kyoya was sure. It seemed fashionable, rather than traditional. It wasn’t a bad look. The rest of the woman’s outfit was ordinary for these events, rather plain. Kyoya had wracked his mind trying to remember her name.

“At your age I would have been crawling out a back window to go meet my friends in the garden,” she'd said, and he let himself raise one eyebrow. She smiled. “But you seem far better behaved than I ever was.” 

Kyoya wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but he did finally place the face and name together. “Thank you, Takeuchi-sama.” 

“Oh please, you can call me Yuma-san,” she said, waving the title away like a pesky little moth. Kyoya had spared a glance over to his father, who was looking his way, and then returned to his conversation partner with a polite and charming smile. 

“I assure you, I cannot, Takeuchi-sama,” he'd told her, and her own glance slipped over to the Ootori patriarch, and Kyoya silently cursed his own obviousness. 

She'd taken his arm then, suddenly, hand hooked in the crook of his elbow as she led him away across the room to a series of posters that were propped up. Designs for the newest hospital complex they had been celebrating that evening. “Be a dear and explain these to me,” she had asked him. “Surely you had a hand in this project yourself.” 

Kyoya’s own hand in the project had been rather small. At the time he was still only a third year high school student, after all. He couldn’t expect his father to delegate large, important tasks to him quite yet. It would look bizarre, having a teenager working on such a project. 

He'd obliged regardless, walking her through the intricacies of the designs, the plans for the new complex, the specialized oncology department and neuro-imaging equipment-- the most advanced model of its kind so far-- and of course, the ward specifically for treating autoimmune disorders. The impressive in-hospital pharmacy. The hospital-wide communication system. As it was currently, the hospital was a monumental success.

He had eventually run out of things to talk about, and she hadn't encouraged the conversation with any further questions. Instead, she'd been watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite figure out. She smiled sadly. It looked like pity. He hadn’t the slightest idea why. 

She said, “You are going to flourish in university,” and this time he’d allowed himself to frown, confused and curious. “Go as far as you can,” she told him. “Be whatever you want.” 

Then she’d bowed slightly and made her leave, crossed the room to someone else, and left Kyoya alone with his thoughts. He'd watched her approach his father later that evening, saw them exchange a few words, and once she was gone his father looked to him and nodded, once. 

At the time, Kyoya had decided not to think about it. 

  
Now, though, Kyoya couldn't help but to think about it. That seer-like woman had spoken as if she had glimpses into the future, but the further he lived into his future, the less he was convinced of her abilities. "Flourish" was hardly the word he would use to describe his current state of functioning. Academically, of course, he was fine. His grades were excellent, and he was exceeding every expectation. It was a bit of a culture shock, but now that he was starting his second semester he was sure that would be wearing off. 

Haruhi had given him some pointers over winter break from their own experiences studying abroad, though since he hadn't asked for them, he wasn't sure how they'd known he needed them in the first place.

Sometimes he wondered if he'd made the right decision for university. His father had given him the choice-- law or medicine-- and since he didn’t have much interest in either, he’d applied to programs for both. When acceptance came in from a very reputable American university with a renowned pre-law program, well, Kyoya would like to say he’d meditated and thoroughly considered all of his options, but that simply wasn’t true. 

He had tried to, of course, but the more he thought through the details, the more he felt pulled in that direction. Impossibly far away from home, as far out of sight as he could ever hope to be, in a country he didn’t know in a city he’d never been to. In the end, he’d let gut feelings and idle whims lead his decision. He was leaving Japan for university. He was going to America. 

The others had all cheered when he’d told them, jumping about and shaking his shoulders and smiling, like it was something to celebrate. He'd been a bit worried about how Tamaki would respond, and he'd expected sulking or pouting or maybe that martyr display he liked to put on sometimes. Instead, Tamaki had picked him up and twirled him around, cheering and singing and crying, “Oh, Kyo-kun, it’s going to be such an  _ adventure _ !” 

It didn’t feel like much of an adventure as he sat alone in his apartment, laptop open on his desk, email inbox blinking boredly at him. He had his schoolwork stacked to the left, textbooks arranged neatly to the right. There was work he could have been doing, but he was far enough ahead that it didn’t have any sense of urgency to it. He stared numbly at the blank wall that he’d never gotten around to decorating and tried to nudge himself towards doing  _ something _ . He was wasting time. This was pointless. He was so  _ bored _ . 

He spared a glance at his phone, which was now muted and sitting face down on the desk. He turned it over, watched it light up again and again with repeated messages.

He'd mostly ignored the rest of the host club during his fall semester, figuring that keeping his distance would only be logical, considering the significant geographical distance between them. They were a hard bunch to ignore, though, and they hadn't given him that option at all when he'd turned up back home for the winter holidays. By now, he'd just about given up the gambit.

It was a useful distraction, if nothing else. Kyoya gave himself a moment to massage the bridge of his nose before picking the phone up and dialing. 

"I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped!" Tamaki exclaimed, in lieu of a proper greeting. "Don't make me send the secret police to come find you."

"Hotta wouldn't let that happen," Kyoya replied, and he found himself waltzing out of his seat and across the room. He needed to be moving, suddenly. "You just saw me a week ago." 

"That's a lot of time," Tamaki replied. Kyoya could hear and practically see him pouting, but he quickly bounced back. "How _is_ Hotta? How's school? Is it snowing? Have you built a snowman?" 

"You're louder than usual this morning," Kyoya said, sorting through Tamaki's questions so he could answer them all in order. "He's fine. School is fine. Yes, it's snowing, and no, I haven't built a snowman." 

"Kyoya!" Tamaki exclaimed, and Kyoya found himself both smiling and rolling his eyes as he held the phone away from his ear. "That's the _first_ thing you're supposed to do when it snows! It's in every christmas movie ever, and don't pretend you don't know that, I know you've watched all of them!" 

Kyoya had only watched them because Tamaki had wanted to, but he politely didn't point that out to him. Instead, he asked him a question about his own schooling, and he listened as Tamaki went off on a spiel about his program and his classes and his professors and his classmates. He was making friends. He sounded happy, even when he complained about how _boring_ the coursework was. 

"At least studying with _you_ used to be _fun."_

"You mean copying off of me?" 

Tamaki had sputtered and cried out, "How _dare you_ \--" and Kyoya had let himself laugh at the theatrics of it all. 

And then, "Hey," Tamaki said, tone suddenly shifting somewhere more solemn. Kyoya had tossed himself back on his bed at some point, and now he made himself sit back up. 

"What is it?" 

"I miss you." 

Something like joy and torture bubbled up in Kyoya's chest, and he nearly choked on it. He pushed it away, forced it back down. It wasn't a feeling worth entertaining. He'd learned that well enough from past experience. He said, "I have a lot of work to get done tonight," and he told himself that Tamaki didn't sound sad when he responded. 

"Oh, yeah, of course...." He trailed off, and when Kyoya didn't say anything, he cleared his throat and changed his demeanor. "I'll call again soon!" he chirped. "Je t'aime, Kyoya!"

"It's a pirate flag, by the way," Kyoya said, and then he hung up.

He dropped his phone to his side and dropped himself back on his bed. He was still smiling. This was ridiculous. Tamaki was a pandora's box, and Kyoya was supposed to know better. He'd risked a lot by going as far from home as he had, and he was in an incredibly competitive program. He didn't have time for distractions, and Tamaki was probably the only thing in the entire world that could make him feel homesick. 

Kyoya didn't have time for that. 

He gave himself exactly ten more seconds to breathe before picking himself back up, sitting down at his desk, and flipping open his planner. He hadn't lied to Tamaki, there _were_ things he ought to be working on. His phone chimed again, across the room on his bed, and Kyoya put all of his will-power into ignoring it. 

* * *

Tamaki hummed happily to himself as he let himself back into his dorm room. He'd been surprised by how small the space was when he'd first started school, and there'd been some apprehension about sharing such a small space with another person. Haruhi had called him a snob, and Tamaki had tried desperately to defend himself. It wasn't _fair_. He wasn't a commoner! He wasn't used to this!

It turned out fine, however. There was a nice common area, a "living room" of sorts even though it didn't have a kotatsu, that they shared with a few other dorms attached to their own, and the public dining areas were both sprawling and quaint. Not nearly as nice as Ouran's had been, then again, not everywhere could be Ouran.

His roommate was fine too. That wasn't something Tamaki had been worried about. He'd known he could make friends with whoever it was, and he'd been excited by the opportunity of having a roommate, even if they were in such close quarters. Hansuke was fun! And laid back. And he always remembered which day they were supposed to put the recycling out. He even wrote his class schedule on the little shared calendar Tamaki had attached to their mini fridge. It really was the perfect situation. 

"So," Hansuke said, lurching upright in bed and startling the life half out of Tamaki. "How's Kyoya?" 

"How did you know I was talking to Kyoya?" he asked. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and tried to put on an air of mystery. Hansuke didn't look convinced. 

"You're loud," he said. "And you said his name. But also he's the only one you say 'ju ta'me' to." 

Hansuke's accident was horrendous, but he had absolutely no interest in learning french. Still, Tamaki corrected, "Je t'aime," and then Hansuke's words caught up with him. "That can't be true. I say it to everybody." 

"You say 'I love you' to everybody," Hansuke argued, as he rolled himself out of bed and lumbered over to the sink to scrub his face in the mirror. Tamaki plopped himself down on his bed to give him space. There wasn't a lot of room to move around. "But you only speak french to Kyoya. He's your 'mon ami.'" 

Tamaki didn't bother correcting his pronunciation this time. "That just means friend," Tamaki said. "It's not like I'm calling him 'mon amour' or 'mon chou'." 

"What does that one mean?" Hansuke asked, and Tamaki felt his face heat up. 

"Don't worry about it."

Hansuke shrugged and uncapped his toothpaste. He stuck the brush in his mouth and spoke around a mouthful of lather. "All I'm saying it, it sounds romantic. Nobody else gets 'mon ami.'" 

"It means _friend_ , and Kyoya's my _best friend_." 

"Uh huh." 

"I used to use french all of the time in the host club." 

"Because that wasn't romantic at all."

"Hold on a second." 

Tamaki stared at his phone, absolutely bewildered, and let several powerful emotions wash over him at once. He decided to just ride them out. Really take in the full experience. Hansuke was staring at him, toothpaste dripping down his chin. "Are you okay?" he asked. 

"I think I may be having a breakdown." 


	2. And So He Formed a Plan...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " And it was silly. It was foolish really. But the more fun Tamaki had, the more he wished Kyoya was there. Which he thought was a normal thing to feel probably. He and Kyoya were best friends. It was normal to miss your best friend, right? "

**Re:** Please Let Me Know You Are Alive

K.O. < [ shadow.king@gmail.com ](mailto:shadow.king@gmail.com) >

To: Fuyumi

Fuyumi,

These email check-ins are getting tedious. I don’t know what I’ve done to convince you that I cannot take care of myself, but I assure you that I’m fine. Again. In response to your questions: 

  1. Yes, I’m doing some work for the company on my downtime, and before you ask: no, it’s not too much of me, and yes, it was Father’s idea. If he thinks I can handle it, then I trust his judgment. Obviously I am more than capable of handling bureaucratic busy-work alongside my school assignments. Please, stop fretting about it. 
  2. I am eating regularly, and my health is fine. I am not a child. Please stop.
  3. I don’t understand why you would ask about “knowing how to use the washing machine yet.” Obviously I am using a laundry service. If I’m going to be receiving a monthly allowance, it would be foolish not to put it to good use. My course load hardly allows time for things like “laundry,” and before you ask, NO. I’m not too busy. 
  4. It’s far too early in the semester to have made any friends yet, but my classmates are tolerable. The professors are fine. Additionally, I keep getting added back into the Host Club group chat, so I am socializing plenty.



I’m glad you’re well. Send more pictures, if anything amusing happens. The ones from Shiduo-san’s birthday were very entertaining.

-Kyoya

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Shouldn’t you be at school?” was the first thing Haruhi said when they let him into their apartment. 

Actually, the first thing Haruhi said was a startled yelp, as he scooped them up into a massive hug and shook them around a little, but once they were properly back on their feet and dusting themself off, that’s what they had asked. 

“It’s important to take a break every once in a while to stretch one’s legs,” Tamaki said, slipping his shoes off and letting himself inside. They stepped back and allowed it. “We can’t waste all of our youth studying, can we?” 

“As far I can tell you don’t spend any of your youth studying,” they had muttered, but when he pretended not to hear, they quickly waved him off as if it didn’t matter. It didn’t. Their snide little comments were cute, in a way. Kyoya had always found them entertaining. 

They had tea in the living room, and Haruhi went as far as closing their books and stacking them on the coffee table in an effort at hosting. “Really,” he’d teasingly chided at one point. “For someone who spent two years in the Host Club, you’re not the most charming host to house guests. I know you have it in you.” 

They sipped their tea and responded in monotone, “I don’t have to host home invaders.” 

“You wound me!”

“You like it.” 

He wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but he was at least used to it. Their interactions were comfortable. He remembered a time when Haruhi had made him nervous, made him flustered, when their casual nonchalance for everything sent him reeling and their emotional callousness seemed to crack him in half. 

Now, though, Haruhi has Haruhi, and he found he quite liked it. Even if they were a little bizarre. And definitely not properly behaved, for a young lady. 

Ah well. 

They talked about classes, Haruhi about their final year at Ouran, and Tamaki about his new university. Haruhi still thought it was funny that Tamaki was living in the dorm halls, when his family absolutely had the means of buying a property near his campus for him to live in, but when he insisted it was all part of the experience and the ambiance, they shrugged and pretended not to understand him. 

There was a lull in the conversation, while Haruhi poured themself another cup of tea and obligingly poured one for Tamaki when he held his cup out. “So,” they said, suddenly. “How’s Kyoya-senpai?” 

“Kyoya?”

“It must be pretty weird having him so far away,” they said, and they were obviously up to something, but Tamaki hadn’t the slightest idea what. 

“It’s weird feeling far away from all of you. Honey and Mori-senpai are entirely unreachable half the time, with that training camp of theirs, but I’m hearing more than enough from the twins.” He scowled as he said it. Haruhi swirled their tea. 

“Which is why you put us all in a group chat together.”

“Well, I--”

“It’s a bit lonely,” Haruhi said, and sipped, and glanced at Tamaki over their tea cup. “I have a lot more free time now that the club has disbanded.” 

That just about broke Tamaki’s heart, and he let Haruhi know that, loudly. He also insisted, “You can put the club back together if you want to, Haruhi! Just because everyone knows your true identity, and you’re stuck with those terrible twins, I’m sure you can all pull it off still if you wanted to!! It doesn’t have to die with the king’s absence!”

Haruhi leveled him with an uninterested gaze, as if he wasn’t shedding literal tears over the matter. He felt one roll down his cheek, and they closed their eyes for a moment before offering a gentler smile. 

“That’s nice of you to offer, senpai,” they said, and his heart swelled. “But no.” It came crashing right back down to the earth. 

They continued, “There’s no point in it, really. Hikaru, Kaoru, and I liked it and all, but it was more you and Kyoya’s thing than anything else. Who would even manage it?” 

That was a decent enough question, but with a bit of thought Tamaki thought the answer was obvious. “You’re good with numbers….”

Haruhi chuckled. “Half of the job is scheming.” 

That wasn’t exactly fair. Tamaki scoffed, placed a hand over his heart, wounded again. “Kyoya didn’t  _ scheme _ .”

“Oh please.”

“He  _ planned _ . He was clever. And I’m the one who came up with the plans anyways! He just….”

“Did everything else?” Haruhi was giving him that looked again. “No thank you. Besides, if the twins are the ones leading the vision here, I’m not sure I want to see where the Host Club goes. It’s better this way. More time to study.”

Tamaki sighed, tossed himself back on the floor and threw an arm over his eyes. He wailed, “Isn’t there more to life than studying!?” and Haruhi made a thoughtful, humming noise.

“Eventually,” they concluded. And then, “He’s probably bored.” 

Tamaki peaked up at them. “Huh?”

Haruhi pulled a book off of their stack and flipped it open. There was a pencil in place as a bookmark. “He spent so much time and energy on the club, I bet he doesn’t know what to do with himself now. College can’t be  _ that _ challenging.”

They spared a sideways glance at Tamaki, out of the corner of their eye. “You’re bored enough to come bother me, after all. On a Tuesday. You really should be doing something more productive, senpai.” 

“You think he’s bored?” Tamaki had never seen Kyoya bored once in his life. He’d seen him pretending to be bored, had seen him momentarily uninterested and unamused, but that never lasted for very long. He was always working on  _ something. _ Always working on the Host Club. 

Huh.

That reminded him. 

“Haruhi!” They jumped, startled. He charged on. “I don’t say romantic-sounding things to Kyoya, do I?” 

Tamaki was not expecting the laughter that bubbled out of them. They covered their mouth with their hand. It was adorable. They didn’t say anything else though, just laughed, shook their head, and turned their attention back to their textbook, offering no explanations no matter how much Tamaki demanded or pleaded or whined. Eventually they said that they were going to kick him out if he didn’t stop yelling, so he settled down into a quiet sulk, which they continued to ignore. 

He dropped his head onto their shoulder-- still ignored-- and watched them study, and he hadn’t realized until then how much he’d been missing this sort of casual contact. He felt starved for it, suddenly. And then he had a rather startling thought. 

As nice as this was, and as foolish as the thought may be, Haruhi wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Kyoya. 

* * *

* * *

Nine in the morning wasn’t an impossible time to expect someone to be up and functional in a classroom, but sometimes it sure felt that way. Normally Wednesday mornings required a series of alarms, half on Kyoya’s phone and a few on the alarm clock across the room on his desk. This morning, however, Kyoya was wide awake and glaring at the ceiling after only two alarms, a good amount of time before the across-the-room alarms would start screaming at him, and long before he was actually expected to be in the classroom. 

Damn Tamaki. It was too early for this. Kyoya had a  _ routine _ . 

It would have been logical to get up now that he was awake, to kickstart his routine early and give himself a little bit of extra time. But his bed was warm, and he felt lazy. He lay in bed until the first of three far-away alarms started screaming, and that was when he finally rolled himself out from under the covers and trudged across the room to turn the whole system off. 

He wrapped his comforter around his shoulders and shuffled half-blind to the kitchenette in the next room, where he turned on the coffee before shuffling off to the bathroom. Turn the shower on full blast and as hot as possible, pee and brush his teeth while he waited for it to heat up, and abandon his blanket on the hook on the door as he rinsed off. 

By the time he was done, the coffee was brewed, and he sipped at his first cup while going to dress and make himself presentable. He’d learned early in the fall semester that it was entirely acceptable to turn up to classes in sweatpants and bedhead if he wanted to-- America was different in a lot of small ways like that-- but a lifetime of lectures on proper grooming and looking presentable kept him from making a habit of that. 

A second cup of coffee as he straightened out his school work, made sure his assignments were complete, his bag was in order, and he was ready for whatever was scheduled that day. 

With a third cup of coffee in hand, he would leave his apartment and make the brisk, ten minute walk to his first class of the day. 

He would attend his lecture, then cross campus to the next one, attend that one and use the hour’s break that followed to situate the notes he had taken, check through his email, and look over the readings for the next one. He would attend that lecture, he would pick up something for dinner that evening, and he would return home. 

It was an easy schedule to keep. 

College was challenging in a lot of ways, but was honestly far easier than Kyoya had been expecting. The reading assignments were quite impressive, sometimes asking him to read more than one hundred pages with only a day’s forewarning, but it wasn’t unmanageable. It had taken a bit of adjusting to get used to speaking and reading and  _ thinking _ in English instead of Japanese, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t already fluent. There were no real problems there, and he had a translator to help with any gaps in knowledge, not that there were many. Classroom etiquette had definitely taken some getting used to, but now that Kyoya was accustomed to it, he found it quite nice to relax.

In fact, it felt like everything was more relaxed now. He had a lot more studying to do, but it was all unstructured. He had freetime. He had to report back to his father, but he was on the other side of the globe. There wasn’t a watchful eye looking over him 24/7. Which meant he didn’t have to keep up appearances. Didn’t have to be perfect and kind and polite. Didn’t have to make friends. Didn’t have to impress anybody. 

It was nice. 

It was… weird. 

Sometimes Kyoya felt like he didn’t know what to do with himself, but those weren’t the sort of thoughts that were useful to him in any way, so whenever they cropped up he pushed them away and found something useful to focus on. School work was something useful he could focus on. He still needed to earn top grades, perfect scores. Needed to absorb as much as he could. If he was going to travel this far away from home for education, he’d better be able to prove that it was worth it.

So that’s where he put his energy. There wasn’t anything else to focus on. 

In a way, Kyoya was thriving. 

* * *

* * *

Arcades may have been Tamaki’s favorite thing in the whole world. The fact that commoner’s had been hiding this marvelous secret from him for  _ years _ was an absolute travesty, and he said as much to Hansuke, who shrugged and agreed that it was probably a scheme against rich people specifically. 

It was good to have someone supporting his theories for once. 

Tamaki wasn’t very good at Dance Dance Revolution yet, but it was definitely his favorite game. Hansuke wasn’t good either, but he was willing to try and re-try the same song over and over with Tamaki, which was all that mattered really. Tamaki didn’t know how he could manage to look so  _ bored _ and stone-faced while playing this game, but it was pretty entertaining to watch, so he didn’t mind. 

“You look just like Mori-senpai,” he told him, and then laughed. They’d already been friends for months now, and even though Hansuke hadn’t met any of Tamaki’s friends over their winter break, he knew them all from conversation now. “I bet he would love this game. He and Honey-senpai would be great at it! And I want to see the twins try and share a dance pad.”

Hansuke said, “You should take them all out when everyone’s in Japan again.”

Sometimes Hansuke was a genius. “Han-chan you’re a genius!” he cheered, and shook the other boy’s shoulders as they walked away from the dance pads. An impatient line had started forming behind them. It was time to relinquish the game. “That would be so much fun, and just like high school! We used to take all kinds of trips together. I’m not sure Kyoya would like it much, it is rather loud here. But it would be funny watching him try to dance! He’d probably get mad and kick the machine!” 

Tamaki laughed, and Hansuke chuckled and rolled his eyes. Another thing Tamaki liked about him was how much Hansuke let him talk, and how he never seemed to get annoyed about it. He would entertain basically anything Tamaki had to say, so long as he wasn’t trying to focus too hard on something else. “Maybe take him to one of those silent discos instead,” Hansuke offered. “Or a cat cafe.” 

Tamaki was fascinated. If he were an shouju character, his eyes would be sparkling. “I don’t know what either of those things are, but I want you to tell me  _ everything _ ,” he demanded seriously, and Hansuke just nodded and led the way to the next game.

He said, “From what you’ve told me, Kyoya would love them. Trust me.” 

And it was silly. It was foolish really. But the more fun Tamaki had, the more he wished Kyoya was there. Which he thought was a normal thing to feel probably. He and Kyoya were  _ best friends. _ It was normal to miss your best friend, right? 

“Han-chan, do you miss your best friend from home?” Tamaki asked, and Hansuke shrugged, which was the most unhelpful thing he had ever said. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm entertaining myself with the idea that these fancy rich boys just. Never actually did normal Japan things? They did the fancy rich boy things, but none of the other stuff. This is the last chapter of build up before The Actual Plot of the Fic.
> 
> @moonlit--wonders and @demon-megane on tumblr are responsible for inspiring this with their headcanons and such. go check them out. 
> 
> also thank you to the stranger whos picture i found on geekologie.com. i bet you're really good at that game. you look like you're having fun.


	3. And So He Went to Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya didn't even have time to get a proper look at his company before they were slamming into him, but as he crashed to the floor with the air shoved out of his lungs in a bone-crushing hug, he knew there was only one person in the entire universe that would greet him like that. 

Re: Hello from Japan!! :) 

K.O. < shadow.king@gmail.com >

To: Ranka

Hearing from you was a pleasant surprise. Thank you for all of the updates. You know Haruhi likes to be frugal with information, but it's good to hear that they're making so much progress with their college applications. Of course, if you get a copy of any of their essays or personal statements, send them along and I'll make any necessary edits. 

Things are going well here. My classes are challenging enough to be interesting, and I have plenty of work to do. You were right. It is quite nice to be on my own.

I don't know why you're asking me about Tamaki? You're seeing more of him than I am. As far as I can tell, though, he's as fine as always.

It was kind of you to reach out. 

-Kyoya

* * *

* * *

Kyoya had no classes on Fridays. It was something that baffled him when he'd first started university, but he'd quickly grown to like it. Three day weekends meant all the more time to catch up on sleep, get ahead on schoolwork, and spend blissful hours alone. 

He knew he couldn't let himself get too accustomed to it. In a few years, when he was a professional, he would be expected to work on Fridays. He would probably be expected to work on weekends, too. Until he was in a position of incredibly high esteem, he could kiss days off goodbye entirely. But for now he allowed himself to enjoy them. 

Kyoya had a productive day planned. He woke to his alarm at 11:45am-- so that he could still say he woke in the morning, while getting as much sleep as humanly possible-- and he cast aside his usual coffee-shower-coffee routine to instead ease himself into the day with a couple cups of coffee and a half-hour of mindlessly scrolling through his emails. Then he set upon his daily tasks, and he let a medical history podcast play in the background-- something goofy and light-hearted that he'd started listening to months ago to reacquaint himself with casual english, and had accidentally fallen in love with-- as he walked himself through the motions of the day. 

He took the trash out to the shoot in the hallway, double-checked the fridge for anything to be discarded. He placed a grocery delivery order on his phone and went through the motions of swiftering the floors and disinfecting the bathroom. He could have hired a cleaning service, but there wasn't much mess to look after when he was living alone, and he found he didn't mind the activity much. It was nice, in a way. A necessary distraction from more mentally-laborious activities.

All too soon the chores were done, and Kyoya retrieved his study materials from his desk and set up camp at the coffee table in the living room. He'd gotten far too used to sitting on the floor, thanks to Tamaki, and now sometimes it seemed he couldn't focus if he wasn't on a cushion tucked under a table with everything spread out in front of him. 

Kyoya didn't let himself think about Tamaki's influence. He put repetitive, mind-numbing music in his earbuds, opened his planner, and got to work. There was plenty to do, and he hardly noticed the passing of time. One moment it was a little after one in the afternoon, and the next there were shadows creeping down the walls and the light was starting to grow dim. He glanced up from the notes he'd been transcribing when his stomach growled, which he accepted as a good enough reason to take a break. 

His knees creaked as he stood up, and he had to spend a few light-headed seconds waiting for his vision to return once he was properly upright, but then he padded the short distance to the fridge and yanked the door open, stooping to see if he had anything useful inside. 

Whoever invented meal replacement shakes deserved endless prosperity, he decided as he cracked open a coffee flavored beverage and leaned back against the counter, tired eyes closing momentarily. It had gotten warm in his apartment at some point, but the icy harshness just outside his windows made him want to keep the thermostat where it was. Still, he felt a little gross. Sort of sweaty, a little greasy. He tried to remember if he'd showered that morning, but his head was just a little too foggy to manage it. 

He would have liked a nap, but if he did that now he'd never get to sleep later. He may have had the whole weekend ahead of him, but he'd prefer not to devastate it right out of the gate. 

He sipped his drink again, and his stomach felt sour. He'd chugged the first half too fast. He sighed, capped it, and set it down on the counter. 

His heart leapt out of his chest and he nearly slapped the bottle off of the counter when a sudden, _loud_ pounding sound erupted from the front door. Kyoya stared at it for a moment, wracking his mind for who could possibly be on the other side. There weren't any appointments he'd forgotten, no repairs that he'd ordered, and his groceries wouldn't be coming until the next day. Perhaps there was some sort of emergency, he considered, as he crossed quietly towards the door and yanked it open. 

" _Kyoya!_ " 

Kyoya didn't even have time to get a proper look at his company before they were slamming into him, but as he crashed to the floor with the air shoved out of his lungs in a bone-crushing hug, he knew there was only one person in the entire universe that would greet him like that. Tamaki sat on top of him, in his lap, arms wrapped around him so tightly that Kyoya could hardly breathe, and pressed their cheeks together as he yelled, "It's so good to see you!"

Down the hall Kyoya heard a door open, then the sound of quickly approaching footsteps. Hotta peaked through the still open doorway, confusion clearly painted across his face, and Kyoya didn't want to imagine what the two of them looked like right now. He met Hotta's eyes over Tamaki's shoulder and mouthed 'I'm okay' with a pointed wave of his hand. Hotta nodded, and if he found any of this amusing, he was professional enough to keep that to himself as he nudged Tamaki's suitcase into the room and closed Kyoya's apartment door before retreating back to his own apartment. 

Kyoya sighed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and Tamaki let out a half-scoff, half-squeak noise as he leaned back and grabbed Kyoya's face in his hands. He shook him a little. 

"I'm here to visit!" he declared. "Japan isn't the same without you, and I didn't want you to get lonely!" 

_More like Tamaki didn't want to get lonely,_ Kyoya mused to himself, and tried to gentle displace Tamaki's hands from his face. It worked, and Tamaki clambered back up to his feet before grabbing Kyoya's arms and hauling him up as well. As soon as they were upright again, Tamaki immediately crushed him in another hug, and Kyoya couldn't help the wheeze that escaped him. 

He said, "I've only been here for a month," though he wasn't sure why he was bothering to logic with the blonde fool. It had never worked before. Tamaki was going to do whatever he wanted, and Kyoya was going to go along with it. 

"A month is far too long," Tamaki said, releasing him from the hug but still gripping onto his shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "You don't have to pretend not to miss me, you know," Tamaki said with a playful wink, using that teasing tone of voice that had always meant Kyoya was about to have some trouble to pick up after. He said, "I can see right through you," and Kyoya certainly hoped not. 

He reached up and adjusted his glasses, and he considered what to do next. Offer Tamaki a beverage or put his bag up somewhere or... He tried to remember what the staff had always done with visitors, but if he was being perfectly honest, he'd never paid them much attention. He wasn't burdened with figuring it out, though, as Tamaki took the reigns. 

He said, "You should give me a tour. I like your apartment! Did it come with this furniture, or did you buy it? Hey, why isn't there anything on the walls? It looks just like your house back home." He laughed. Kyoya felt a little bit like he was caught up in a whirlwind. 

"Decorating was hardly at the top of my list of priorities," he answered, drawing himself up properly and guiding Tamaki through the apartment. "I'm afraid it won't be a very long tour. This door leads to the bedroom, that one to the bathroom, and this is the main living space." 

Tamaki let himself into Kyoya's bedroom and poked around, and Kyoya noticed for the first time that the room had fallen into a state of disarray. There were clothes and books strewn everywhere-- on the dresser and the desk and the chair. Some shirts on hangers were hanging off of the closet door instead of residing inside of it. Tamaki didn't mention any of that, instead bouncing on Kyoya's bed and commenting on how soft it was, and then buzzing off to inspect other parts of the apartment. 

Kyoya followed him around, watching his friend explore with the same energy Antoinette had back when Tamaki had first brought her home. He very much looked like an over-excited golden retriever as he bounced from place to place, practically wagging with excitement. Kyoya caught himself smiling and forced his face back to neutrality. Tamaki whirled around to look at him, beaming, and Kyoya watched the excitement fall away as something like concern crossed over his face. Kyoya frowned, defensive. 

"What are you looking at?"

"Are you okay?" 

That was a ridiculous question, and Kyoya said as much. "What would make you think otherwise?" he asked, and just as quickly as it had arrived, the crease in Tamaki's brow faded away. He smiled again, bright as always. 

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked, "I'm _starving._ What's a good place to eat around here? I bet you know all the best places." 

Kyoya didn't know any of the places actually, and that realization caught him a bit by surprise. He hadn't visited a single restaurant in person, unless it was to pick food up at the counter and take it home, had he? He couldn't recall the name of a single restaurant, let alone which of them Tamaki might like. He covered, saying, "I have a lot of work to get done, actually...."

But Tamaki interrupted him. He crossed his arms over his chest, and said, "Kyoya, I spent thirteen hours on an plane just to visit you. The least you can do is take me out to dinner." 

They stared at each other for a moment, Kyoya weighing the price of being stubborn just for the sake of it, while Tamaki frowned at him with that bratty, petulant look on his face. Not worth it, Kyoya finally decided, even though he wasn't even remotely hungry. 

He sighed. "Fine."

And Tamaki lit up again, grabbing Kyoya into another hug before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. His smile was impossibly wide. Kyoya felt blinded by it, a little bit claustrophobic. He was out of practice. 

"Go shower," Tamaki ordered. "I'll find a place."

He shoved Kyoya away, gently, and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he draped himself languidly across the sofa. Kyoya stared for a moment, then went to do as he was told. Tamaki was correct. Uninvited or otherwise, he had made an awfully long journey to get here. The least Kyoya could do was entertain him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personal headcanons:  
> \--kyoya and ranka are definitely still friends. that whole arrangement brings me so much joy.  
> \--hotta lives like... right next door to kyoya. just in case >_>. it'll lead to some fun shenanigans later.
> 
> for a really long list of headcanons specifically for this story, go check out my tumblr. was going to make this one a little longer, but it felt like a good self-contained bit. tamaki's pov will pop up again next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me at punks-n-rec.tumblr.com or in the comments below :) thanks for reading


End file.
